8.10.10

I don’t know if I ever thought like that beforeI sort of wandered pastLike a leaf in the breezeAll those memoriesOf what you used to beCut up and collectedPaper cut out puppet showDisplaying parts of youLeft forgotten and unseenYou know?

Muttering like fretworkPaper playing in the classroomFrench guessing games of who knows whoIt’s all about the imageThat these left behind psalms leaveSomewhere left in boxesStored away inside the eaves

It can be better though;To blow the dust awayAnd try again and staySolidIn rememberingThat the puppet’s there with youIn youIf you just recall its nameBecause you’ve got to keep rememberingNoThe stage lights aren’t the same

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